


DAY OF THE DEAD

by vanhunks



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: No real summary to this short piece, except to say "trust me"? I think the title says it. My tip of the hat to this celebration at this time of the year. Little angsty but there'll be relief.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first new fic in a while! Dare I duck the bullets?

His chest burned fiercely as the sensation of a thousand bells pealed in his head. It was dark, but not quite the invisible blackness he always associated with dead of night. But he was racing, his feet carrying him unerringly over cobbled stones. 

Barefoot? He looked down, realising he must have lost his sandals as he ran from his foe. He couldn't remember a foe, but sensed he was being chased. His heart raced furiously and with every breath he took he felt the pain in his ribcage, a stinging pain that intensified with every hurried step.

Why was he even running? 

Then he heard noises, more like voices in the distance. If only he could get there so that he could see who was chasing him or where he was running to or who owned the voices. It came closer, more defined, like a rousing singing or chanting with a jubilant sound.

He had to find her, or else he'd be lost. That was when he realised he wasn't running from an enemy but hastening towards familiarity. Someone he loved. His head throbbed. Had he been injured somewhere? Were they together, injured? 

She must be there, he realised, among those chanting crowds. Crowds! The fog lifted a little as the cobbles in the street became discernible - round, each one a different shade of earth stone, patterned almost haphazardly, the little abodes flying past him - colourful front doors and windows with little café curtains. His mind swung back, away from the distraction of houses and little windows with colourful front doors. 

Kathryn! She was there. The shuttle had landed over rocky terrain, he knew that. He'd seen the trajectory of the fire trail, like a comet making a lazy curve in the sky before it merged with the horizon. Still he kept running, oblivious of the pain in his chest, the cuts on his feet, the clenching and unclenching of his hands. 

Then suddenly he reached the town square and he saw the people - men and women and children who were swaying to the slow clapping of hands or banging of tambourines. Why did it seem to him that they were sad? He had to speak to the first person to ask them where the shuttle landed. Kathryn piloted the shuttle. He had to find her, find out if she was alright.

He stopped, gasping for breath, his head suddenly swimming. A man faced away from him. He touched the man's shoulder. The man turned slowly, a sad smile on his face. He appeared friendly, his black hair in a riot of curls about his face.

"Have you seen her?" he asked the stranger.

"Who is it you seek, señor?"  
Chakotay gazed past the smiling stranger, at the people as if he sought to find a familiar face. Their faces did seem familiar. Only he couldn't find hers… His heart raced again, a hard pounding in his chest.

"Kathryn."

"La Catrina?"

Chakotay nodded, instantly thinking that his commbadge translated Kathryn's name to the understanding of the people of the town. It wasn't unusual. His name had been translated as 'Amal' on many occasions when they'd visited homeworld. 

"Yes, yes, La Catrina."

"You are a stranger among us, yet you seek Catrina. She is everywhere!" the stranger said enigmatically. 

"Thank you. Where is she?"

"Tonight, at the Altar of Remembrance. It is that way," the stranger said, pointing towards the end of the square. "But you must make haste. She leaves when the moon vanishes behind the hills."

"Thank you," Chakotay murmured, then rushed away, practically barging his way through the crowd. 

He paused a moment as something hit his face. When he pushed it away, he gasped out loud. A doll with the face of a skull, with deep set eye sockets and long teeth. A sudden stab of pain overwhelmed him. Everyone turned to him, men and women who walked with a dressed up doll and a skeleton's head. 

And suddenly all of them pointed in the direction the first man had shown him.

"No!" he cried, but it was a wordless cry of denial, one that swelled in his head. "She's in her shuttle," his mind told him. "Safe and sound!" 

"There she is!" pointed one woman when he reached the Altar of Remembrance. "There!" 

Chakotay looked at the woman who held her doll to face Chakotay. He saw Kathryn. Unmistakeable resemblance, even through the gouged eyes, high cheekbones and hairless head.

"Kathryn?" he asked, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Kathryn?"

"This is not La Catrina," the woman said.

"But - but - " he started, instantly aware that the women were facing him and their dolls all looked like Kathryn. 

They pointed to the altar. There was a man kneeling there. When he approached the man, the man looked up. He recognised the man, but his denial stormed through his body.

"No! Doctor?" 

He pulled his gaze away to look at the Altar. There was a framed photograph of Kathryn, her face sad with the little smile that hovered on her lips. Chakotay felt the sorrow rise in him like a tidal wave. He could not scream, not yet. Too distressed to speak, he glanced at the men and women who had followed him to the altar. He knew them. They were his crew, the crew of his ship - Tom, B'Elanna, Harry, Rollins, Tuvok, Nicoletti, Jenny and Megan, Sam Wildman and young Naomi. All of them.

The ocean of sorrow overwhelmed him and the cries started deep in his bowels and rose up, up, up. 

Through the terror of his unending grief he heard the doctor speak. It came to him from a great distance, and echoed right in his midst. 

Captain Janeway's shuttle crashed, Commander Chakotay. Unfortunately she did not make it. Her injuries were too severe. There was nothing I could do for her. She died. I have tried my best. She - "

"She cannot be here!" Chakotay cried. "Not here among all these dead dolls!"

"I am sorry, Captain," the doctor said, his photonic eyes sympathetic as they rested on him. Then Chakotay heard the rest of the crew.

"We are sorry. We are sad. Over yonder hills her broken shuttle lies."

Then he began to weep. Great gulping tears rushed from him as he grabbed the photo from the Altar of Remembrance and pressed it to his heart.

"My beloved!"

His body began to shudder as he wept, for he knew the dreadful truth. Glimpses of their life flashed before him, their last moments together when he wept over her broken body. Kathryn telling him she'll love him 'til the day she died. 

"My beloved!" he cried again, sinking to his knees. "Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"

A hand, tiny, soft and loving caressed his face. The tears shocked into nothingness as he leaned into the touch. It soothed him, the dread of the dolls, the singing, Caterina who was not his Kathryn slowly making way for a sense of peace that filled his being. 

"I will never leave you," she said. "Wake up, my love, for you are dreaming…"

And the light gently absorbed the darkness, and from the deepest recesses of his dream he emerged, a slow journey to the present - a wide bed, tangled sheets and a soft body holding him as if she would never let him go. Her voice, familiar, cherished brought him to the surface. 

"Open your eyes, beloved."

Light descended on his eyelids, yet he remained afraid still to open his eyes. But incredibly soft lips caressed his and it felt real. He didn't want the sensation to leave him, feeling a little lost when the caress ended. 

Slowly he looked into a pair of very concerned eyes. Kathryn. Beloved. He touched her face, his hand caught in hers as she pressed her lips into his palm.

"I didn't die, Chakotay," she said quietly, firmly. "You saved my life, remember? My shuttle crashed during that ion storm. I didn't want to listen to you when you warned me, but I was headstrong. I was injured but you came and saved me. You and the doctor. You stayed by my side until I recovered completely. Remember?"

"I dreamed? Again?"

"Don't worry. It's receding, my love. You haven't had this dream in a year."

Understanding dawned at last. 

"I was very afraid," he murmured as he pulled her against him, revelling in nestling his face in her neck, so real, so damnably real.

So they lay together in their bed until their breathing eased into the blessed oblivion of sleep.

************* 

END


End file.
